A Broken Tale
by PinkPenguin18
Summary: *SPOILERS FROM START* An attempt to tell the 'whole story'. Starting with the childhood of our favourite Seraph to the end of the game. Possibly into DoNW territory eventually. Please read and review!
1. An Aristocratic Childhood

**A/N** **Hey guys! Welcome to my second ToS fic, I decided to start my next one as I'm writing 'Evolution' (don't worry, I'll still finish it!)**

**Basically, I am going to attempt to tell the whole story. By the whole story I mean from Kharlan War to the end of the game (perhaps into Dawn of the New World territory if the game ever comes out in Europe). **

**Quite a feat if I can manage it, but I didn't think I could tell the whole story as continuous prose, so I figured I would do it in broken chapters depicting the defining and not-so-important moments. So don't be surprised if there is a big leap between some chapters in timeline. They will be a variety of lengths and styles, so if you have any ideas just let me know!!**

**On with the show, wish me luck! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia, that right belongs to Namco. I just enjoy writing the characters, enough excuse to bring the second game out in the Third World of Gaming yet, Namco??**

"Where are you going?"

Kratos Aurion froze. A lurching feeling in his stomach startled him as he realised he had been followed out of the window. A cool breeze directed an unruly spike in his short hair across his eyes, causing the boy to shake his head and be rid of it. His lurching stomach settled as he realised who the owner of the voice was. Luckily for Kratos, it had not been one of the scholars who had followed him.

"Kratos, you are going to get into a lot of trouble."

"Heh…" Kratos turned round to face the voice and folded his arms. Emerging from the bushes beside the stone wall was a young boy whom Kratos had spent much of his childhood with. Miles was of the Lowthian family line, the certain heir to a famous weapons crafter who served the King of Tethe'alla. He was a small-framed boy and looked younger than Kratos, despite them both being 11 years old. He dusted himself down as he emerged from the green overgrowth and adjusted his frilly collar-scarf - his cravat - that his father's subordinates always seemed to make him wear.

"What's the matter, Miles?" Kratos asked, mockingly, " I'm just going to the village for a walk, I'm not causing any harm."

"You are a liar, Kratos!" Miles squeaked, a small ounce of fear noticeable in his voice, "You are going to see that slum boy Larry, aren't you? You will go and play with his wooden swords in the trees. Do you know how much trouble me and you will be in if we don't go back to ancient history?!"

"Chill, Miles, you don't have to come" Kratos waved his hand and began to turn away, "Just tell the old coot that I'm ill or have run away or something. Me and Larry are going to see what is in the dark cave by the lake. Larry says there are dangerous monsters which we can test out sword skills on."

Miles pouted at the figure of his childhood friend, vision obscured slightly by his chestnut hair.

"Kratos, wait!" Miles stalked after Kratos, who was striding towards the dirt path leading out of the stone building's estate.

The two boys were educated at the Aurion family household, Kratos's father being a long-serving historian and scholar for the King. As his job entailed, Kratos's father was away for much of the time, leaving his 11 year old son with an army of servants to care for him in light of his mother being killed by a small group of rebel fighters when he was 3. Kratos had been cause for much trouble for his father, a notable figure in the aristocratic circles of Meltokio, as the boy seemed incapable of listening to instructions and following what his father would consider a 'healthy, ordered enrichment programme of education'. In fact, Kratos's father had forebade the boy from ever partaking in activities involving weaponry, partially because of a knee-jerk reaction to the death of his wife, and because he felt a scholar's life was best suited for his son.

Needless to say, Kratos did not agree with his father.

"Kratos! I want to come!"

The taller boy stopped, allowing Miles to catch up to his side. Kratos smiled as his friend took a second to catch his breath, resting one hand on his wooden sword hidden beneath his luxurious blue velvet cloak.

"You sure you don't mind getting into trouble?" A twitch of a smile formed on the auburn-haired boy as his brunette counterpart glared at him through his fringe.

"I'll just say you dragged me with you," came the retortion, "and these monsters better be good, I haven't been practising for nothing."

"Kratos Aurion!! Miles Lowthian!! Get back here this instant!"

'Uh oh…they found us…" Miles's features fell as he watched the white-clad scholar emerge from the large, red wooden doors.

"Heh…" Kratos wiped his index finger underneath his nose before winking at Miles and bolting off towards the horizon, dragging his best friend behind him.

**A/N Nice short one to start with, dealing with Kratos's childhood is a good place to start. Any ideas for forthcoming chapters, let me know! Please please please R&R! **


	2. Flamberge and the Dinner Party

"Does your dad come home today?"

Kratos looked up through his long, spiked bangs that hung over his eyes as Miles entered the room. His father had been away on a research assignment for nearly a year now, and the 15 year old teenager was preparing for his 'grand return'. In reality, Kratos just rolled his eyes at the speeches the scholars gave him about how he would have to look his best to greet his old man. They kept trying to make him cut his longer, spiked hair back to how it was a few years previously, but Kratos persisted that he retained his hair the way it was.

"Yeah. He gets in late afternoon." Kratos replied, buckling up his black boots and tucking his black combats into them silently.

Miles fiddled with the exquisite purple drapes that hung by the window in Kratos's room. The two boys were as close as ever, and Miles had become more and more accustomed to Kratos's insane ideas for escaping their adjacent manors without the scholars noticing. They had been caught on a number of occasions and many a wooden sword had been confiscated, but the two boys had persisted with their antics much to the displeasure of the scholars.

"They want you to go to that crazy dinner thing tonight?" Miles asked cooly, adjusting his uncomfortable jacket.

"Of course, my father has returned home to 'high Meltokio society', they will want the next historian in the family to sit on the top table," came the sarcastic reply. Miles grinned causing Kratos to narrow his eyes, "Besides...they will want you to be there too! Your old man will be present, so I don't see why you won't have to go."

Miles pouted and sat down on the soft four poster bed with a thump, "Aw, that's so unfair. I was hoping I could get out to do some practise tonight."

"What alone? What a loser..." Kratos murmured, stiffling a grin, "Who are you supposed to spar with if I'm not there?"

"I wasn't going to spar!" Miles countered, "I was just going to practise some techniques...you have gotta give me time to get as good as you at some point, Kratos! Heck, you can buy a real sword when you're 16, that's not even that long!"

Kratos grinned at his friend and shook some hair out of his face. He toyed with the idea of putting a grey bomber jacket on, but decided to stick with his black tank top on the hot Tethe'alla day.

"Come on, Miles," Kratos stood, stretching his arms out in front of him to loosen his shoulders, "How about we go and see if we can grab some food from the kitchen, I'm dying here."

* * *

"Master Aurion"

Kratos sighed and turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder. A black suited servant with a neat comb-over and moustache stood behind him, arms held smartly behind his back.

"Master Aurion, it is time to go. Master Lowthian will be meeting you at the banquet," the servant stated curtly. Kratos rolled his eyes and shuffled towards the door, following the servant and ajdusting his tightly fitted suit jacket in the process.

The room was expectably grand. Stuffing his hands in his pockets agressively, Kratos scanned the room for signs of Miles. He spotted two large rebellious bangs of brown hair, out of place in a place such as this, and the small wiry frame of his best friend. Miles seemed bored as his father was deep in conversation with a group of other men. Kratos knew the ways of the aristocracy, and felt it best to leave him alone as it would be frowned upon for the son of a well known businessman to leave his father's side during a conversation with peers.

"Master Aurion, your father has arrived back in the city safely and wishes for you to meet him in the side hall to greet him."

"Joys..." Kratos replied, following the same servant to the side hall of the banquet room.

Closing the large oak-pannelled door behind him, Kratos stared at the back of his father. Charles Aurion was a tall, stocky man with broad shoulders and a stiff upper body. His pointed face was framed by dark black glasses and his auburn hair was combed neatly to the side. Kratos had spent much of his childhood being told how much he resembled his father, and subconsciously did everything he could to make himself appear different.

"Kratos. It is good to see you my son."

Kratos scowled as his father stepped towards him and pulled him into a one-sided hug. The teenager just let his hands fall limply to his sides as his father clutched him.

"Let me look at you," Charles stepped back and held on to his son's shoulders, "You have matured greatly over the year, Kratos. I can see you have begun to transform into a fine young man."

A soft smile appeared on the historians face as he removed his hands and stepped backwards, the aristocratic facade fading for a second. Kratos stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his black trousers.

"Did your trip go well, Father?" Kratos mumbled politely as he had been told to, his right toe drawing small circles on the wooden panelled floor.

"It was a fascinating trail through Tethe'alla, Kratos, very rewarding indeed. I trust you are progressing well with your studies?" Charles nodded to the servant who had escorted Kratos to the side-hall, watching the man leave the room silently. His eyes fell back on his son, who was staring intently at the floor as he replied.

"Yes, Father. I have become proficient in the language of the-"

"Kratos, listen to me, I haven't got much time."

Kratos looked up as his father's voice dropped to a whisper. The historian stepped forwards and crouched, hands resting on Kratos's arms just above his elbows.

"I will be leaving again in the morning, something happened during my trip and there is suspicion that my colleagues and I have been passing information over to the Sylverant government."

Kratos's eyes widened, "But Father, you could get done for treason!"

"I know, son, that's why I have to go. The King's men are petty, our group merely stretched out a hand of friendship to the history academy in Palmacosta, but the King's forces assume we were passing on vital tactical information that I may have picked up." Charles scanned the room again, small sweat beads beginning to form on his brow.

"Where will you go?" Kratos sounded almost worried for his father's safety, his cool attitude faltering momentarily.

"Sylverant, where else?" came the brief reply. Charles stood and turned towards a locked cupboard, "I need to give you something."

Charles turned, holding a black leather belt with an attached sheath. In a swift movement, the historian unveiled a magnificent red sword the like of which Kratos had never seen. It was a perfect size and curved elegantly to a viscious looking point.

"Flamberge," Charles said, swinging the sword slowly, "An ancient sword of the elves, assumed to have been brought down from the legendary comet of Derris-Kharlan. I want you to have it."

Stunned to silence, Kratos recieved the sword from his father who placed the sheath on a sideboard. He marvelled at its light weight and perfect balance, testing it out with a few choice swings.

"You want me to have it?" Kratos questioned, recieving a nod from his father, "Where did you get this?"

"It was given to me by the leader of a group of elves I met near the coast. I saved them from a rebel group who threatened their lives. Their elder told me he had not met another human who would have stopped to help their race, and so entrusted me with this sword. It has saved my skin on a number of occasions, I hope you are as lucky with it as I was." Charles smiled, almost sadly.

"It saved your skin?" Kratos asked, "You're a historian!"

"Heh..." Charles adjusted his glasses, "It gets a little more complicated than that sometimes, especially when race comes into play, I try to avoid letting any human persecute those of another race. I hope you would do the same."

Kratos smiled inside, understanding what the word 'complicated' meant. A surge of pride for his father rose within him and a brief moment of mutual silence was shared between father and son, before it was rudely interrupted.

"Professor Aurion, sir," a rapping at the door sounded, breaking the silence, "There are envoys from the King here to see you, they say it's urgent."

Charles's nose crinkled, "Shit...seems I've run out of time."

"They have come for you?"

"So it would seem." Charles licked his lips and adjusted his cloak, revealing a sword hidden beneath it to the teenager, "Be careful, son. I'm sure your mother would have been proud of you."

Charles placed his hand on the side of Kratos's head for a second, cold fingers almost stinging the boy's neck, before he turned and strode out of the room.

Kratos Aurion clutched his brand new sword as the knights of the King broke their way through the door to find the one they were seeking to be gone.


	3. Packing for Departure

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Kratos! Kratos, are you in there?"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Miles sighed and rested his head on the large wooden door to Kratos's room. He had been waiting for his friend to return for nearly a day now, constantly bashing on his bedroom door, hoping he had come back. Miles spotted him being dragged away by a group of the King's knights at the dinner party the previous night. He had tried to call out to him, but his best friend just looked bewildered, eyes fixed on a dazzling red sword and black leather sheath in the hands of one of the soldiers. Needless to say, the party was called off as the news of Charles's disappearance came to light.

"I'm in here, Miles."

Miles jumped and stepped back slightly from the door. A small murmur of a voice, a voice that was unmistakably Kratos's, echoed through the stone hallway. Fumbling with the door handle, Miles entered the room.

Kratos was rummaging through a wardrobe at the far side of the large bedroom, piles and piles of clothes forming behind him. On his four poster bed lay a black satchel bag and the same leather sheath Miles had seen the day before.

"Kratos..." Miles walked round the room and leant on the edge of the bed, facing Kratos's back, "Kratos, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Kratos replied bluntly, absent mindedly patting a long chunk of hair so it covered his left eye.

"Don't lie. Where are you going?"

Kratos stopped what he was doing and breathed out heavily. In a swift movement, he stood and walked straight past Miles to the bed, holding the hair over his left eye as he went.

"My father is on the run," Kratos answered, stuffing a folded undershirt into his satchel, "The King's knights took me in for...questioning last night as they want to know where he is. I didn't tell them anything."

Miles watched Kratos silently, not quite finding the words needed to reply. He raised his eyebrows as Kratos patted his uncooperative hair over his eye once more.

"What did they do to you?" Miles asked, "Why are you covering your eye like that?"

Kratos turned to Miles, shocking his friend with a stiff glare. He used his hand to lift his hair off his eye, revealing a deep cut across the top right of his forehead and a yellow-green bruise forming around his dark eyebrow.

"Needless to say, they weren't too impressed with my silence." Kratos let go of his hair, letting it fall over his eye and blanket out his injury.

"Dammit Kratos..." Miles breathed, "What did your father do?"

"He was supposed to have been passing data on to the Sylverant government," Kratos replied, causing a look of shock to form on Miles's face, "They assumed I wasn't involved, but reckoned I knew a little about it."

"And they released you? I'd have thought they would have kept you under lock and key for your father to return."

Kratos shook his head, a small smile forming on the corners of his mouth, "They had nothing to charge me with," he replied simply, "meaning they couldn't keep me for more than 24 hours. Got my new sword back and all, bureacracy saved me this time, at least it's good for something."

"Right," Miles nodded, his mind whirring trying to process all this information, "what about the servants? Were they worried about you?"

"They show no loyalty to my father," Kratos replied, face distorting as if he had been subject to a bad smell, "I don't blame them given the measly amount they are paid. To be honest, I think some of them would prefer it if I didn't come back based on how much you and I have put them through over the years."

"Hmph, yeah too true," Miles laughed bitterly, "So where are we going to go?"

Kratos raised his eyebrows as he did up his satchel, "We? I'm going after my father. I'll use the sewer entrance out of the city. You are staying here."

"You think?" Miles laughed, "I can't stay here. Not alone. Besides, they'll probably come for me next wondering where you have gone. I don't fancy hanging here being a sitting duck, waiting to be hauled in."

"You'll need a sword."

"I know. I'll steal a short sword or a dagger on the way out of the city."

Kratos put his satchel on and did up a black cloak around his shoulders, covering his voilet tank top. He turned to his best friend.

"You sure about this?" The 15 year old asked seriously, eyes lacking their usual spark of excitement.

"Definately," Miles replied firmly, heading towards the door, "I'll meet you in the sewers in an hour. Probably makes more sense for us to go seperately anyway."

"Sure." Kratos strapped the sheath holding Flamberge around his waist and used both of his hands to flatten his unruly hair, a style Kratos had not worn before.

"No spikes?" Miles asked absent-mindedly from the doorway.

"Nah...It makes me more noticable. Besides, I quite like it this way," Kratos examined his new, flatter hair style in the mirror, "and I fancied a change."

**A/N Bit of a story teller chapter, rather than anything exciting! Please review for me **


	4. A Third Companion

"You've improved…"

Kratos wiped his new sword down with an old rag he had packed in his bag. He leant against a nearby tree as he did so, casually resting his root on the bark, bending his knee. Miles grinned at him as he sheathed the short sword he had stolen on the way out of Meltokio. Miles hadn't had long to get used to his new sword; the sewers and surrounding fields of the city had been predictably infested in monsters. The two boys had had enough experience with battles like this on their secret escapades, and were more wary that their first night outside of their luxury beds was drawing near.

"Thanks, Kratos," Miles sat down near his friend and swung his rucksack round so it was on the floor in front of him. He rummaged through his change of clothes and pulled out some brown paper bags, filled with bread and other essentials that would last the pair until they reached another town.

Miles and Kratos munched silently on some of the bread that Miles had brought, both obviously affected by the fatigue that had begun to beset them. Once the bread had been finished, Kratos lit a fire with some nearby branches and the matches he had stolen from his father's quarters.

"Are you sure we should be highlighting our location?" Miles enquired, wiping his mouth with the back of his grey-sleeved tunic.

"We are far enough away for us not to be seen," Kratos mumbled confidently, the two boys were resting in the shadow of the Fooji mountains, half a dozen miles away from the city, "Besides, we will see them coming early enough for us to make our escape."

Miles nodded and held his hands out to be warmed by the fire. It was by no means a cold night, but the boys had been used to such luxury that a small chilled breeze caused the smaller of the two to reach out for some warmth. The friends sat in silence, staring into the orange glowing flames, for what felt like hours. The whispers of the wind no longer bothered them, and they found themselves talking quietly to fit in with their surroundings.

"How far do you think your father has got?" Miles asked, rubbing his upper arms for warmth.

"Not a clue," Kratos shrugged, eyes staring intently at the fire, "I'm pretty positive he will have got a good distance from the city, though. He could even had got over the sea, possibly further than Sybak."

"Hmm…" Miles murmured, "Is Sybak where we are going?"

"Again, not a clue. It seems the likely course of action; my father knows some of the scholars that work at the university there, they might know where he has got to."

"I wonder what my parents will say when they realise I've gone…" Miles trailed away and started scratching into the dusty dirt with a stick. Kratos looked up from the fire.

"You regretting coming?" He asked, receiving a brisk shake of the head in reply, "No doubt they will be worried, but they will assume you are with me. News will get out that we have both gone missing and they should put two and two together."

"…Not that you can do that."

"What?" Kratos raised an eyebrow.

"Put two and two together." Miles smirked, blinking as a stray stick struck him in the side of the face. The two boys laughed quietly before Kratos was startled by a loud rustling coming from the bushes behind them.

"Miles…" Kratos stood slowly, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He waved his other hand to get the smaller boy's attention, "Miles, I hear a noise."

Miles's face fell serious immediately as he rose to his feet behind Kratos, eyes darting round the area briskly. The outside of the bushes visibly swayed as whatever-it-was moved closer to the camp and both boys drew their swords.

"It's coming…" Kratos mumbled, bending his knees into a more ready position, ready to strike. Miles followed suit.

Kratos lunged at the bush as something small emerged from it.

"Argh!…Woah!"

The auburn haired boy stopped mid swing, planting his front foot forcibly into the dirt. He held up a hand to stop the lunging Miles behind him.

"Wait!" Miles stopped behind his shoulder and lowered his short sword, "There's no need to panic. He's a friend."

"He?" Miles's face scrunched up, squinting through the dark to see what 'he' was, "A friend?"

Kratos crouched as the 'he' emerged into the firelight. 'He' was a small creature that looked a lot like a large rabbit or hare. His white ears were long and hung backwards down his back towards his bent legs, their startling green tips only centimetres from the ground. His deep black eyes sparkled and his green-tipped nose twitched happily as Kratos patted the top of his head lightly.

"Kratos…what-"

"This is a friend of mine - Noishe." The taller boy replied, scratching the rabbit under the chin with his fingers, "He used to come and see me when I ran from the city alone. He's a good companion and a one of a kind, you won't see another rabbit like him!"

"He's clearly not a rabbit, Kratos." Miles said bluntly, earning a surprised look from his friend.

"What are you talking about?" Kratos asked, "Of course Noishe is a rabbit!"

"Hmmm…" Miles chose not to belittle his friend further, "Who came up with the name 'Noishe' anyway?"

"It was a spur of the moment thing when I was younger," Kratos shrugged, "I figured he needed a name, and Noishe came to my head."

Miles breathed out heavily and sat down back beside the fire. Kratos continued to pet the 'rabbit' who would make a rumbling sound, almost like a purr, in response. The creature was a magnificent white colour, highlighted against the darkness save for his green-tipped ears, feet and nose. Miles racked his brains for a species he had read about that fit this description, but to no avail.

After a number of minutes, Kratos came and sat silently beside his friend, the creature joining him at his other side. Without a word, Kratos pulled off his dark cloak and lay back, placing the cloak over him as a cover. He placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, allowing Noishe to curl up on his chest, rising and falling with the breathing of the fifteen year old.

"Kratos."

No response.

"Kratos!"

"What?!" Kratos's eyes snapped open, followed immediately by Noishe's eyes.

"Is he coming with us?" was all Miles could stutter. Kratos placed his head back on the dirt, eyes closed.

"Is it ok with you? He won't be much bother, and he's smarter than you think," came the reply.

"No, it's fine," Mile assured his friend and lay on his side on the dirt himself, curling his knees to his chest for warmth, "I'm just not used to having a rabbit around is all."

"Hmm," Kratos replied, fidgeting slightly, "Thanks, Miles. It's nice to have another companion. All famous companions are in threes anyway."

"You do realise that most 'famous companions' are made up fairytales, right Kratos?"

"…Yes. G'night Miles."

Miles burrowed his face into his cupped hands and smirked to himself as he fell asleep on his first night our of the city.

**A/N Yay! Noishe! Tried to make Kratos seem more like a child rather than a 40 year old man in this chapter - hope I captured him OK! **

**PLEASE review! =]**


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